The Perennial Rule
by Llewellyn Fonce
Summary: AU. It's the 98th Hunger Games and the people of Panem are restless. They're tired of sending their kids off to die, tired of starting a family only to see them taken away, tired of the perennial rule of the Capitol. Will the new batch of tributes join their predecessors, lost in the pages of history or will they leave a spark that will set everything ablaze?


**a/n: Hi everyone! :) This is basically just an AU story if the rebellion didn't happen in the original 'The Hunger Games' novel. This is mostly an original story with a few references about Katniss and the crew. I expected my readers to have already read the books when I wrote this so that's why I only gave brief explanations about the how the Reapings work, what the Hunger Games are, etc. Oh, a little heads up before you start, the story will be told by multiple POVs but I won't write who's witnessing what (holy crap alliterations!****) so you have to put 2 and 2 together.**

* * *

**"You are intriguing so I will introduce myself to you,"**

**- The allure of idea**

* * *

_Focus is the key to everything._

The blue is only getting darker the deeper I dive. It is an unbearable sensation, to be swallowed by the darkness. But I have to embrace it, for the most brilliant light can only be found in the darkest abyss. The lights I'm referring to, of course, are pearls. Pearls obviously fetch a high price in the market for their gleaming beauty. I've never really been much of a fan of pearls, to be frank. Glass marbles look prettier to me.

After that thought, I start to feel a growing pressure in my chest. Odd, usually I am able to reach greater depths before the oxygen starts to drain from my lungs. I conclude the fault to be in my lack of focus and push all thoughts of gleaming lights and cheap toys away as I pressed onwards to my goal. At this point, I estimate myself to be halfway there.

Pearl diving is one of the main sources of income for District 4, and a source of broken aesthetics for a vapid and vanity-ruled Capitol. Of course, the usual spots for pearl hunting are only at the shallow reaches of the bay and it's because of their easily accessible feature that the oysters that hold the precious milk-coloured stone lie mostly bare on the seabed all year long. Luckily I'm blessed with the knowledge of this circular undersea cavern hidden well behind the jagged rocks that work to keep other hunters and fishermen away.

The discovery of this little nook is actually a funny one. My twin sister and I were playing near the obviously dangerous area despite our mother's warnings because really, that is what children do. We rebelled and played a game of hide-and-seek as Katherine started to hide while I counted. My eager anticipation for the adrenaline rush that comes from the hunt is abruptly disturbed as I hear my sister shout my name in a tone heavy with fear behind a cluster of rocks that protrude the surface of the bay, like thorns on the earth.

The jittery feeling of panic courses through my veins as I tore away from my counting spot and daftly ran towards my sister's voice. I don't remember how exactly I managed to manoeuvre past that obstacle course of a bay but I did somehow. Maybe it was because I was a really small and short child that my stature graced me with such dexterity? Whatever it was, I manage to reach my sister in time without a scratch.

Despite being natives of District 4, Katherine was absolutely the world's worst swimmer and that was how we found this little place that seemed to stretch deeply underground. My swimming capabilities far outshone my sister and I quickly dove in and pulled my flailing sister to safety. I remember my sister choking out water and coughing roughly. I did my best to make sure she was alright but I wasn't sure how to deal with drowning victims. A pat on the back and the pulling back her hair was the only thing I felt like I could do. Nonetheless through sobbing eyes, her gratitude laid bare without words to form it.

I remember that her blue eyes beamed despite tears. It shone brightly with life despite her close proximity with death. It gleamed just as pearls do when the faintest rays of light reflects it in the murkiest of darkness. The same shimmer of light right before my very eyes right now.

_Bingo._

* * *

"I said the 3rd drawer on the left, Roshay," said an impatient voice.

I simply roll my eyes and huff as I scoot over to the directed drawer. Pulling it open, I find dad's old bowie knife tucked away in the corner. I grabbed it and offered it to Dell who tried to snatch it away from my hands. I knew he would leave without a word after getting what he wanted so I decide to have some fun and pulled my hands back from him.

"Roshay, I have no time for your games. Give me the knife," he said in a commanding tone.

I playfully shake my head and he groans. He runs a hand into messy brown hair and mutters something under his breath that I couldn't quite catch. "Well, what is it your highness?" He teases me with the same phrase he always uses. I rock on the balls of my feet trying to think of something. Even as I reach tip-toe height I'm only at Dell's shoulders.

"I'm a 'highness' right?" I say and I detect his face twitch with annoyance. "Then I command my humble knight to fetch me my sewing kit from the top shelf," I say sweetly. Dell stares blankly at me with a hint of surprise. He probably expected me to give him some lame request like doing a goofy dance or getting me a cup of water from the kitchen.

Dell reaches for the top shelf with ease and searches around until he grabs my sewing kit. He passes it to me with one hand while the other outstretched for the knife. As the trade took place he questions me "Why sewing? Why not something less habitual and more spontaneous?"

It's the day of the Reaping and that's why he asks me such a question. The Reaping is where 2 kids from each district, a boy and a girl, get their name drawn from these large transparent bowls that look like an enlarged version of the fishbowl I had when I was 7. The ruling government of Panem, the Capitol, has this "games" annually where all 12 districts send in their kids to a custom-made Arena where they have a gladiatorial-style fight to the death. Winner gets the ultimate prize; his life.

"Why the knife?" I say in mock curiosity. There used to be a time when Dell was this warm and loving big brother. The kind that chimes in unwantedly and teases about my knitting collection every chance he gets. We used to share a healthy sibling rivalry although it's slowly faded over the years. It's like one day the Dell I knew was taken away from me and replaced with this rigid voice of authority. Sturdy as the walls that keep District 8 citizens within her, I know better now than to question his peculiarly dangerous musings.

His lips curled up into a half-smile and I can just feel the sly amusement that radiates from his slight scoff. "Touché," He says briefly before his face returns to seriousness and he walks out the room without hesitation. I stand there, wistfully hoping he would return through the doorway and pat me on the head like he used to and tell me that everything will be okay; that I won't get reaped.

He doesn't.

I quickly steel myself before I get too caught up in my lonesome sorrow and head downstairs to my mother's workroom.

The image of still mannequins dressed in the most beautiful and colourful dresses greet me as I descend the stairs. My mother runs a boutique that caters to all kinds of customers, men and women, young and old. In her own words, she described herself as a proactive efficiency opportunist. In other words, my mother was lazy to handle the hassle of managing her own house and another building for her business, so she combined both under one roof. The area downstairs is strictly for business-only while everything upstairs is specifically family-oriented.

"Mum?" I ask as I stand outside her workroom. She hates to be interrupted when sewing and I've been threatened by this middle-aged woman wielding a needle and thimble like a sword and shield numerous times before. "Yes, yes. Come in," She says without lifting her head from her spot at the work-table. I close in on this hunched figure, a magnificent tapestry laid out before her.

The effect of time may be visible on my mother, what with the lines on her face and her difficulty in treading a needle, but her skills as a master seamstress is untouched. The tapestry, if hung, looms well over my head. It's something probably for a mansion's ballroom. Its rich red colour stirs me a little and the sheen of the fabric, which I'm guessing is velvet, looks brilliant. The crest of a lion stitched in golden thread sits proudly at the centre while my mother works around it, adding bright red and orange sequins and other knickknacks. The lion looks as if it's surrounded by a swirl of fire.

"Oh good I see you've already brought your sewing kit! Come, come, you can help me finish this up before the Reapings start," She peers at me through the thick lenses of her glasses. I quickly set up all my tools as I sat beside her, brushing away my blonde hair away from face. Still feeling a little down from before, my movements are evidently sluggish. A few rounds in and my mother huffs a little and turns to look at me.

"What's wrong dear? Besides the Reapings of course, because you became eligible for it 2 years ago but you never let it get you down before," She asks as a mother would. I hesitate a little; I don't want to bother her with my petty problems, and yet I cave in.

"It's, well… You know," I say as I put my needles down.

She immediately understands and sighs in acknowledgement. "It's about Dell isn't it?" I nod. "I know what you mean," she pulls me in into a hug, which I wasn't expecting, and I let out a small gasp of surprise. "Dell is a good son and a good brother. Don't ever think otherwise," She says as she caresses my hair. "But he-" I protest but is pushed away from her. "Roshay, you may not see it but he still cares about you. He just shows it in a different way than before,"

I scoff in anger "By pushing me away every time I try to connect?" My mother puts a hand over her heart and looks a little melancholic. "Oh Roshay, I had no idea," she pulls me again into a hug this time tighter than before. "Roshay, he's not trying to abandon you. It's not your fault Roshay, and it isn't his either," Her hug is becoming more and more unstable as I can feel her rocking up and down. "Please don't feel this way. It's circumstances and life that shapes everyone and everything,"

The top my head is getting damp and I realize my mother is sobbing. She'd never seemed to mind Dell's distance from us but I guess she was just like me too, pretending. Her will was so resolute, I had no idea this affected her this much. Come to think of it I never really thought about how this might affect anyone else. With the realization of my selfishness and the guilt that follows I couldn't help but shed some tears too.

Together my mother and I are a pathetic sight, a girl and a grown woman clinging to each other for support, but I need this and maybe her too. I don't understand Dell, I really can't. No matter how hard I try, he seems to deflect everything. There's only one thing I can do in a situation like this; move on and focus on my life. I calm myself down first before helping my mother. "Oh look at us, we're bonding," she laughs through the tears and I laugh too, bitterly. I wipe the tears from both eyes and the image of dad's knife rests on my hands like a hologram.

"He asked for dad's knife again," I said bluntly. "Oh," my mother simply closed her eyes and sighs. "Why does he do that every year?" I ask though I can guess the answer. "To honour his father, I suppose," I kick myself in my mind for bringing this up. I pick up my needles and try to finish the embroidery properly and my mother follows suit.

"Mum?" I ask without looking.

"Hm?" She doesn't raise her head.

"What happened to Dell?" the silence that hangs between my question and her answer seems to claw at my ears. "I can only assume that, he grew up,"

* * *

"I'm back," I say as I drop the muddy bag of pearls on the kitchen table. My mother is preparing breakfast and surprise, surprise, its fish. Don't ask me why we are having fish for breakfast, that's just how it is here in our house.

"Trina, how many times do I have to tell you to put them in the sink so it won't get mud on the table," she scolds as I flee through the doorway to my room. I can hear her voice gradually getting softer as I climb upstairs "I use that place to prepare food, food that you all eat!"

_The food you make sucks anyways_; I let that thought stay in my mind rather than speak it out. The last thing I need is a drama scene at the moment. "Sorry!" I yell back down. Whether that was genuine, even I couldn't tell.

I quickly make my way to my sister's room and knock softly at the door. A while has passed and I still haven't gotten a reply so I knock again, harder this time. "Please wait," a soft reply came from the other side. I roll my eyes and groan; honestly Katherine can be so meek sometimes, if not always. "Okay, you can come in now," I twist the doorknob and enter.

An angel sits on the bed, her face turned away from me. Katherine is wearing a pristine white dress that looks somewhat old-fashioned compared to the gaudy clothing I've seen some of the other girls wear at school. Her hair is already tied into a braided bun and shines from the light that pours through the window. "Kat, is that one of mother's?" I ask. She nods her head quietly, still not facing me.

"Kat," She says nothing.

"Kat, I know you're crying," She shakes her head and brings her hands to her face.

I walk up to her and gently pull her face to mine. True enough, her eyes are red and slightly swollen; the make-up smeared in a shaky vertical path. "Kat please, it's not the end of the world," I'm too tired to hide my directness. She laughs a resigned laugh and wipes the smear with some tissue. "I know I'm sorry. I can't help feeling so pessimistic right now," It's the same old excuse she gives every year.

Honestly I have no idea why she's worrying so much. We're from a Career district; that alone should be enough to dismiss the fear of being reaped. There's bound to be dozens of volunteers. The money gained from the selling of pearls is enough to keep us off from the reliance of tesserae. "Stop it with the whole moping about thing. You're so depressing when you're like that and I can't stand it," I snap.

Kat looks hurt and while I have no intention of making her feel bad it certainly is the truth. This is the fate that has befallen us and the more time we spend contemplating it the easier we are struck down. It's always easier to not think. Kat mutters something under her breath which I couldn't make out. "What?" I say sharply.

"If you don't like it, you could just pack up and leave," She says with venom and I look at her in genuine surprise. This is the first time I've seen her like this. Usually I'm the forceful one while she's far mellower in comparison. "If I do, everyone else is gonna shrivel up and die," I stare her down. "You're not the only one who can provide you know. I'm not as helpless as I look," She snaps back at me.

"What?" I ask, confused. She lets out a small gasp "Nothing. Never mind, forget I said anything," She outright deflects it. I want to push her some more but there's a time and place for that. Pre-reaping waiting period is definitely not the time to crack anyone. "Dry your tears and clean yourself up. You look pretty so don't ruin it," I sigh and head back to my room.

Before I leave the room I turn to try and settle the tension that hangs heavily in the air. "Hey um, after I shower can you… help me with my hair?" Kat looks expectedly surprised. I never bother to doll-up for the Reapings and my hair is the least of my concerns. It's all stringy and dry and looks horribly bad in comparison with Kat's longer, glossier hair. "Sure, I'd love to Trina," she smiles and gets ready.

"I'm going to show mum the dress first, ok?" I simply nod as we both leave the room. She walks almost as if she's hopping down the stairs. I swear that girl is as giddy as those kids who're experiencing their first fishing trip. I forgot about the weak spot on the decrepit wooden floor and it creaks as if the house is screaming in agony. Quickly I raise my foot from the floor and tip toe to the other side.

This house looks big but it's really old and in shabby condition. It belonged to my grandmother and she passed it on to my father before she passed away. Of course, this house belonged to her grandmother before she got it. The architecture is really the only appeal left of this house. The furniture and wallpapers have all yellowed over time and the floor, doors and wooden structures have swollen because of the humidity from being at a coastal area. We could pay someone to fix and renovate it to bring it back to its former glory, but then we wouldn't be able to afford to eat for about a hundred years.

As I enter my room, I start to undress for a quick shower. Then I realize all my clothes are still hanging outside to dry. I groan as I cover myself up and make my way downstairs, this time careful to avoid potentially springing off any alarms. It's like a minefield in here. Just as I am about to go out through the back door I hear hushed voices coming from the kitchen. Normally I wouldn't bother to eavesdrop but the conversation that I've overheard strikes a chill in me.

"Breakfast is fish? Are we running low again?" a soft voice, which must belong to my sister, murmurs sombrely.

"Yes dear, I'm afraid you'll have to take it again," I push my back against the wall of the adjacent hallway and focus on their conversation.

I hear a sigh "I can't though, I already took this month's ration remember. We'll just have to be smart and make do till next month,"

"These pearls aren't selling as much as they used to. I heard that Capitol have traded in their pearl-based lotions and jewellery for some new trend. I think its neon-infused body ink, to make glowing tattoos and such,"

"Ugh, such a wasteful bunch,"

_My pearls aren't selling? But then, where did we get enough money to buy all the grain and oil?_

"They're such an influential bunch that claims to see 'beauty' in everything. Mum, what if I travel to the Capitol and peddle them? I'll just tell them they contain some random antioxidant property that can be used as a natural way to combat wrinkles and the like,"

"Don't be ridiculous, no one would be stupid enough to fall for that. Well, maybe the Capitol would but what you're planning is dishonest work,"

"Signing up for tesserae every year and increasing my chances to get reaped may be honest, but honesty doesn't mean much in the Arena, mum,"

"…How many of the papers have your name?" said a dreary voice.

"One for each year… That makes a total of 25 this year. Trina only has 5,"

"Are you sure you want to do this again next year?"

"Yes, because we need it. Whatever money we can save we have to use for dad's medication. I can't let Trina find out that I collect tesserae; you know how she is. She'd volunteer herself in the Games to try and win us Victor status. That's just way too risky, I can't lose her,"

"But-,"

"Mum please, I've made up my mind. The money you get working in that gutting factory is so miniscule even when you work overtime. Trina is an excellent pearl diver and that's how she contributes. I'm sorry I can't swim or be near water because of the whole hide and seek thing. I want to do this mum; I'm willing to face the consequences,"

"I really wish the odds are ever in your favour, Katherine. Please, try to avoid taking next year's tesserae. I'll try to find a better job,"

"Thanks mum, but you shouldn't get your hopes up. The odds are never in our favour,"

* * *

Absent-mindedly, I poke at my breakfast with a fork. I tried to stick my fork in a pea but it just rolls away with the slightest hint of pressure. I try it again, this time leaving my hand as limp as possible. This time, it's not the pea that slips it's my hand. The fork crashes on the porcelain plate and it resonates deafeningly in the large dining hall.

Instinctively I flinch and quickly look around to see if anyone was around. The ornate wooden chairs still remain empty and I see no shadows under the marble archways leading into the living room and kitchen. I let out a small sigh of relief that no one was here to witness my moment of weakness. My heartbeat slows down to normal and I fiddle with my fork again.

Of course, the moment I think I've cheated death it comes storming in through the door. "Clementius dear,"

She pauses for a while and narrows her eyes at me. With a tone thinly-veiled with rage, my mother corrects me "Posture," I straighten my back. "You honestly believe you can fool your mother?" I flinch again. Honestly if I keep flinching like this no one would take me seriously as a contender. "What possible error have I done?" I clamp my fists tightly on the table so she can see.

"Don't show your temper, you don't want to appear incompetent," Oh she just loves her superiority complex. "I know you planned to wash… your own dishes," I get so tired of hearing her and the rest of this district talk like that. "There is nothing wrong in showing a little clemency," She balks mostly likely for two reasons: one, the simple thought of selflessness is appalling to her and two, the irony of my name.

"Please, I have suffered enough having a son with such a vulnerable name. Why did I even name you that," she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "You didn't, dad did," The seemingly calm disguise cracks. "Do not speak of him. He was a coward!" I smirk as her face twitches. Revenge, even if it is ever so slight, is simply satisfying. She fixes her hair which has fallen out of place from her outburst and mutters before leaving the room. "Prepare yourself; Reapings are soon upon us. I have several final issues to handle at the Justice Building if you need me,"

I've lost my appetite and slide the plate away from me. Despite my mother's warnings, I pick the plate up and leave the lavish dining room to an equally lavish kitchen. "Agatha?" I call out but no one responds. I sincerely hope my mother isn't giving the service staff one of her typical lectures. Seeing as no one was in, I quickly head to the sink and wash my plate.

"Master, no! Please let me do the cleaning," the old lady-servant from district 11 comes barging in through the door. I quickly scrub off remaining gunk and rinse it before she could reach me. "Sorry but you're too late," Agatha sighs and looks behind her as if a monster was lurking the corridors. "I know you mean well Master Clementius, but if Lady Alecto finds out I can lose my job,"

"I'll stop helping if you'd stop calling me master. It makes me sound so entitled," Agatha sighs. "But you are. Lady Alecto is not only Victor but also Chief of Staff for Mayor Alcander and Sir Cassiel is-"I wave her off, slightly annoyed. "That's not kind of 'entitled' I meant and you know very well," She looks at me, mouth twitching cautiously while trying to navigate rough seas. "But you were that kind of 'entitled' too. At least until Master Kastor's passing from yo-,"

In the next few moments of uncontrolled rage, I realized my fist is inches away from her face and Agatha is shaking. I quickly set my hand down and massage my temple with my other hand. I try to avoid conflict as much as possible because I just can't control myself when I'm angry. "Agatha I'm sorry I didn't mean to," She still looks shaken as if someone just told her that her entire family has been executed. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't stop myself," My apologies are to no avail as Agatha turns and exit the kitchen with a sob.

Pensively, I stare at the spot she once stood with tightly-clenched fists. I seem to have a habit of pushing people away. I should probably get a cat; solitary creatures make perfect pets for abrasive people.

* * *

"I love it," I say as I model this beautiful dress my mother made in front of the mirror.

"I'm glad you like it. It was really hard to get the frills right with polyester,"

The blue dress looks amazing. Shiny sequins in various shades of blue adorn my dress in an abstract pattern and the glossy sheen of polyester makes the frills that decorates the hem really makes me shine under the light. "It's yours, forever,"

I turn to face her, a little surprised. "You mean I get to keep it after the Reapings?" She nods with a bright smile that is really contagious. Usually, the dresses I wear during Reapings are a once-in-a-lifetime apparel. By the next day, I can see them hanging at the front display window ready to be bought by customers. "You've had enough to think about. Besides its just one dress,"

I hug her and she goes to store the tapestry away. I'm 14 but I'm spending my morning twirling around a mirror pretending to be drop dead gorgeous. It's vain, I know, but everyone deserves to feel pretty once in a while. I keep trying different poses until I sweat, that's when I see Dell coming down the road from the window.

Our house is on a small hill in front of a T-junction. To the west is the city square where I'll be going later; to the north are the factories and the train station; to the east is the market and shops and stores and if you travel further down the commercial road, you'd end up in front of district 8's massive but sole cemetery. Dell came from the east.

As I wipe the sweat away with a tissue and fix my blonde hair, I notice a smaller figure walking behind Dell. It's a girl about my age and she seems to be striking up a conversation with him but he doesn't really respond other than the casual nod. "Oh that's right! Gabardine is supposed to walk with me to the Reapings," I say out loud to myself, a habit I can't seem to shake away.

As I hop down the stairs, I can hear the one-sided conversation between them. Gabardine asks outside the doorway "So, I'll see you later?" to which Dell simply mumbles "yeah," I stop him and do a little twirl. "Yes Roshay, with your flawless fair skin, curly blonde locks and dazzling blue eyes you can be the next face of Panem," he says in mock excitement. Groaning, I slip out the door and hug Gabardine.

"Oh my wow, Roshay you look beautiful!" I blush a little, slightly surprised at the compliment. "Don't patronize me Gaby; it's the dress that's the star. I'm just the same ol' me I've always been," Gaby simply laughs as she pull me down the street. It's true, despite Dell's "sincere" description of me I just blend in with the wall most of the time; I'm perfectly happy with that too. "Don't be so modest, besides you're the one who keeps on telling me it's ok to feel pretty once in a while," I let out a shy laugh at my own hypocrisy.

Gaby's the pretty one between us though. I have freckles and she has porcelain. I have stringy hair and she has soft silky hair. Really, she actually could be the face of Panem.

Numerous other kids slowly trudge along to the city square in front of the Justice Building to be reaped. There is no light in this atmosphere; everything feels so heavy as if gravity started to love us more. "So how's Doyle..? And your parents..?" I try to loosen up the tension with some small talk even though both of us have known each other since we were in sowing school. "Ugh don't even go there. Doyle is making a fuss by pretending to be in a coma and my parents are prying him off the bed as we speak," the image of a fully grown man being dragged away by his parents made me chuckle. "Just because he's 19 he says 'I'm never ever going back to the Reapings again' and I'm like 'don't you want to support your sister who's still eligible?'"

Gaby goes on and on, ranting about trivial things while I simply nod in response. Either she really doesn't feel the full impact of an impending doom or this is her way of coping with it. I guess that's really all we can do; resign to it and accept our fate in this annual gamble. It's been like this forever or at least that's what it feels like. This year is the 98th annual Hunger Games and to think it's almost been a century that we live like sheep raised only to be herded into the slaughterhouse. The Hunger Games were put into effect since the rebellion against the tyrannical Capitol failed 99 years ago.

"Anyways, how's your mother?" I look at her, puzzled. "What about my mother?" I ask, busily trying to recall if anything was worth noting. "Oh, I thought something happened. Dell was carrying some letters with the Umbrex logo on it and I just thought..." She trails off, awkwardly staring ahead. Umbrex is this new brand of mobile healthcare that goes from district to district. Supposedly, it's funded by private investors from various districts and even the Capitol itself. I'm not sure how something like that gets approved by the President but whatever, I'm just 14. All I know is the President is evil and helping others is definitely not evil.

"Maybe it's just for Dell? These days, he could be supporting his pregnant girlfriend for all I know," In that instant Gaby turns sharply towards me, grabs my arm and yells "He has a girlfriend?!" All I could do is laugh. Gaby's face reddens as she notices a few of the other kids are looking at us. "No Gaby, I was just joking," She waves me off "Of course, I knew that," she says as she starts picking up walking speed and I try to keep up.

After a brief exchange of small talk, Gaby and I are already at city square. A few of our friends from school are already in the age-assigned waiting areas and they wave to us gingerly. The fountain in the middle would've looked nice on any other day but today just numbs any positive emotions. Reaping days always do that. We register our names and our identification is recorded at a table farthest away from the Justice Building where it leads to the road. Gaby walks over to the '14' area and I am about to when the Peacekeeper suddenly seizes my hands.

I gasp in shock. "Hold it," He says to me, eyes locked in a staring contest. I gulp in dreaded anticipation.

"You're a Foulard," He says again, unrelentingly intense.

I nod my head shakily. _Oh am I going to jail? Am I going to be executed?_ These thoughts race through my mind as I begin to panic.

The next few moments are suspended in complete silence save for that ringing sensation in my ears. He must have noticed how wide my eyes are opened before he releases my hand and gives me a warm smile.

"Could you tell Dell that Peacekeeper Janus says hi?"

* * *

**And that's it for an introductory chapter. Hopefully it's enough to have entertained you for that long and please do leave a review :)**


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